ROMANOV AUTUMN
Chapter Forty-Nine
Jack vaguely remembered St.
Petersburg from his last visit to Russia, though he hadn't spent much time
there. It reminded him very strongly of New York--ridiculously crowded and filthy.
Mac gaped, open-mouthed, through the window, watching as people wandered the
streets, shouting to each other in a language she barely understood. There were
children romping around without parents attached. Several had to be chased away
from a food cart with a broom.
However, Mac's eyes were torn
from the everyday city life to the glittering white and gold palaces in the
distance. "That's Tsarskoe Selo," Sergei explained when Mac inquired.
She crawled onto her father's lap to get a better look.
"People live there?"
She nearly fell to the floor of the carriage when it ran over a bump in the
road. Jack caught her just in time.
"Yes." Sergei chuckled.
"The Tsar and his family stay at the winter palace, which is to your left.
The Catherine Palace is to your right, but it's back a fair way."
"Wow," Mac gasped. Jack
eventually encouraged her to sit upright.
Eventually, the carriage pulled
to a stop on one of the less busy streets. Sergei opened the door, hopping down
to the cobblestone. He came around to let his brother-in-law and niece out of
the carriage. Jack grabbed each of their suitcases.
"Are you sure you want to do
this?" Sergei asked, looking uncertain. Jack glanced all around him.
"I survived in New York
City," he said. Mac clung to his arm.
"But under much different
circumstances," Sergei muttered. "You will not be living with a
millionaire here, I am afraid. There is no chance for that whatsoever in St.
Petersburg."
"I don't really have much
choice," Jack replied.
"Well, I am not going to
keep arguing with you," Sergei spoke again. "We trust your
judgment."
Jack felt a pang of relief run
through him, glad the Veronins still held him in high regard despite Alyiah's
sudden death. "Thank you," he replied. Sergei tied the horse before
leading them to where he felt they would be safe.
Jack hated feeling stupid as
Sergei spoke to the owner of a local shoe factory. Both men argued rather
loudly back and forth. Mac stepped backwards, intimidated when the older man
pointed at her father with a very discriminating expression on his face.
"What's he saying?" Mac
whispered. Jack placed a hand gently on the top of her head.
"All right." Sergei
turned around, his expression making it clear that he was not pleased by the
circumstances. "He'll take both of you, but your size doesn't please
him."
"When has it ever pleased
anybody?" Jack asked. Sergei managed a smile. "Okay. So, he's going
to employ...wait, both of us?" He stared at Mac.
"Children work as soon as
they are able to walk and talk in this town," Sergei explained. "He
is desperate for more workers. That's the only reason he's taking you. Many of
the other factories are full to the brim."
Jack couldn't believe it. The
thought of children working just as hard as adults disgusted him, but he knew
he had no choice.
"Jack," Sergei
continued, folding his arms. "We could take Mac in and look after her
while you work. It is completely understandable if you would prefer that."
"Well…" he pondered out
loud, nearly falling sideways when Mac threw her small arms around his legs.
"No!" she exclaimed,
gaping at him.
"No what, honey?" Jack
asked. She hugged him a bit more tightly.
"I wanna be with you!"
Mac truly looked as though she might cry. Jack couldn't bear the sight of her
tear-filled eyes.
"We'll see how it
goes," he replied. "Thank you, Sergei."
"Now, wait a moment,"
Sergei interrupted. "Mr. Popov insists that you report to the factory at
seven o'clock sharp. You will work until seven at night, and Sundays you end at
noon."
Jack could feel his stomach
churning, but tried his best to seem confident. He refused to give in now, not
when he'd made such a big deal out of wanting to fend for himself.
"All right," he
replied. Sergei also helped them secure a small, abandoned shack close to the
factory. Mac stood looking at it, chewing on her nails anxiously.
"I knew of this place,"
Sergei admitted. "It has been abandoned for many years. The rent in this
area is very cheap, but I will warn you, it is difficult to keep up with
expenses. Many people who live here do not have money to even afford a shack
like this, and they have been known to steal."
Jack swallowed, not wanting to let
his daughter go for one second. "Who would I pay the rent to?" he
asked. Sergei introduced him to a woman by the name of Catia, who lived a
couple of buildings down the narrow road. Jack put his deposit down for the
small house, again thanking Sergei for his assistance.
"Nezacto," he replied.
"You're welcome. Please, be safe, Jack. And you know there are open doors
whenever you need them."
Sergei bent down to hug and kiss
Mac one more time, watching as she started to dart after him. He turned when
she called his name, glancing at Jack after she embraced him again.
"Ya lublu tebya," she
said. He smiled, kneeling down so he was at eye level with the child.
"Ya lublu tebya," he
replied. "I want you to be a strong girl and take good care of Papa. All
right?" He offered a hand to Jack, speaking in Russian again. "Udachi
i khoroshego nastroeniya!" He saw Jack's confusion and glanced at Mac with
a wink. "Good luck and keep well," he translated. Jack nodded.
"Thank you," he
replied. "We'll visit when we can."
When Sergei disappeared, Jack
encouraged Mac to enter the shack with him. Both were displeased by the
condition of the walls and floor. There was a small, twin-sized bed, a tub in
the corner, a stove with a cast iron pot hanging inside, and a small desk and
chair.
"Oh, my God," Jack
breathed, setting the suitcase down. He immediately pulled Mac into a hug.
"Well, sweetheart...what do you think?"
Mac looked at him, chewing on her
lip. "It's okay," she lied. "I don't wanna stay with Grandma and
Grandpa if you're not gonna be there."
Jack picked her up, kissing her
forehead. "We're going to be all right," he promised. "In a few
months, we'll return to America."
Mac wrapped her arms around him,
burying her nose against his chest. "I'm going to take care of you, Papa,"
she promised. "Just like Uncle Sergei asked me to."
"I know you will." Jack
chuckled. "Now, let's say we unpack and try to make this little house our
own." He encouraged her to be careful, as there were many loose
floorboards. He hated to think about the rodents and bugs that could possibly
infest the house at certain times of the year. Though he was used to living on
the streets, his daughter wasn't. Her idea of adventure was an effortless
fantasy. In Jack's opinion, it should remain that way until she was old enough
to care for herself.
Mac did what she could to unpack
her suitcase. Jack watched as she flattened her small collection of dresses,
winter coat, and shoes on top of the comforter. Jack attempted to blow dust
from the desktop, which only sent him into a fit of sneezing. Mac stared,
unsure of what to say or do.
"I'm sorry, honey," he
apologized, collapsing into a chair, which only provided another cloud of dust.
"Bless you, Papa," Mac
said when he finally managed to catch his breath, offering him a clean
handkerchief from his coat pocket. "I saw a lot of kids playing on the
street. I wonder if I can meet ‘em!" she suggested when her father got
himself situated again. Jack began to unpack his own suitcase.
"Honey, I would really
prefer you not risk that," he warned.
"They can't be all bad, can
they?" Mac asked.
"I'm sure not all are bad,
no," Jack agreed. "But I want you to stick as close to me as
possible. If you get lost, it'll be pretty difficult to find your way
back."
"Okay," Mac muttered,
though the idea of being able to romp around and play pirates with a new band
of friends excited her.
"Mac, promise me," Jack
begged. She raised an eyebrow.
"I promise," she
insisted. He squeezed her arm tenderly.
That night, they bought
foodstuffs for the shack, which took quite a bit of patience due to Jack's
little understanding the language.
Once safely in their shack, Jack
lit the available candles and started a small fire in the stove to cook their
dinner. Mac sat on the edge of the bed, swinging her small legs as she watched.
"There we are," he
announced. The two of them waited patiently, their stomachs grumbling as the
smell of beef filled the air.
Jack eventually put fair amounts
of meat and vegetables on each of their plates, encouraging Mac to sit at the
desk while he used the edge of the mattress and his lap for support.
"So, I'm gonna have to work,
too, Papa?" Mac asked, her mouth full. Jack gave her a scolding look.
"Yes," Jack replied,
"though I'm very much against the idea of any child working."
"Why?" Mac stabbed
another piece of meat with her fork, shoving it into her mouth.
"Children should be allowed
to maintain their innocence as long as possible. I don't ever want you to lose
your imagination, honey, no matter how difficult life gets."
"You mean I can play pirates
as long as I want?" Mac piped up. Jack laughed.
"That's exactly what I
mean," he replied, "but in this case, I'm afraid there won't be
time."
Mac frowned, leaving her dinner
to provide her father with another hug. Jack set his plate aside and returned
the embrace, kissing the top of her head.
"As long as we help each
other, we'll get through this," he promised. Mac smiled.
"Cross my heart," she
replied.